Ashraf Ali

Ashraf Ali

Aptitude declining, intelligence waning

I’m going to school, learning about history and politics and theories and ideas that interest me but don’t advance me because I need to get a stupid grade. And that grade is dependent on detailed readings and intense dialogue and discussion that I’ve rehearsed in my mind over a hundred times. And everything else that I need to be good at, like my website building skills or programming or graphic design starts to slack as a result. So when I get stuck at this stupid window, refreshing over and over again, wondering why my code is not producing the result I need, I get frustrated.

I get very agitated by this notion that college is really furthering my career. And if I decide to switch my major to Computer Science, I’ll just continue to be frustrated. Over and over again. All they want to teach is the theory of computers or the theory of the way a programming language is built and not actually teaching me the constructs of a programming language, what object oriented programming actually is, and how to write a decent line of code worthy of matching up to a seasoned professional.

I want to teach myself, I have no problem with that. But when you have back to back classes that require you to study at least 1-2 hours in addition to each class’ allotted time in my schedule plus you have work to do for clients, where exactly am I supposed to take a break? Where exactly am I supposed to be teaching myself? I’m churning hours and hours of thinking power into politics and history, only to result in burnout for everything else. And sometimes I’m thinking so hard, I’ll get knocked out for a day, just because it’s hard to recuperate from all the stress of processing the knowledge, then regurgitating it on some test to satisfy some cruel punishment from my professors.

I know it’s not their fault, it’s my fault for choosing these classes. But at the same time, the structure of college requires too many checkpoints of my aptitude. And everyone judges me by these stupid numbers. So I get dragged down to an even lower level of depression where I’m circling around, thinking about the stress of class and doing well, then producing successful work for clients, then working on my secret super awesome project that will never see the light of day. All while being concerned of maintaining good relations with my parents and significant other and friends, all which can diffuse like a bomb at any moment, leaving me to deal with the entire stress.

What do I have left for myself? How do I break myself out of this insane fold and not cause myself premature death as a result of my own mess? Remember the Milk has 39 tasks and counting. Each task feels like a weight bearing on my shoulder, and my shoulder only. And these are not simple tasks. They are large, overweight, bulbous, refuse to diet tasks.

I don’t have looks. I don’t have much singing or artistic talent. I don’t know how to write a policy paper. I only have this thick bulbous skull of mine that lets me think. It’s the only thing I appreciate about myself. It can’t decline in the midst of everything else. And yet it is.